


maybe yesterday

by orphan_account



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F, MAYBE the slightest hint of wenrene too, slight wenri? but open-ended about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sleep-drunk and hungry for warmth, she slides a hand along the sheets, expecting Seulgi to be waiting for her at the very end; where no matter which path she takes from her own person to her roommate’s, the other girl is always on the other side. Upon reaching the cliff of her mattress, she—Ah, right.I forgot.Wendy pauses and opens her eyes, hand in the air. Past the edge of her bed, instead of another body in a bed pushed against hers leaving less than an inch between them, so,so,close, all she sees and feels is empty space. Too late.





	maybe yesterday

_Finally_.

She lets out a grunt when her body hits the mattress. Wendy closes her eyes and places an arm over her face; drowning out the sounds of noisy girls moving their own things into their own rooms not too different from Wendy’s— white walls and a table and a bed— and chases away her thoughts with a heavy sigh.

 _About time_ , she thinks, hiding a small smile under her sweater. A space just for me. Wendy turns but keeps her eyes closed, letting the feeling of— freedom? Loneliness?

 _Privacy_ , come over her being, setting it alight.

There’s no trace of Seulgi here. Not a single article of clothing squeezed in between furniture, no hidden snacks under beds, not one strand of bleached blonde hair on anyone’s pillowcase.

No tart smell of fresh citrus to mix with Wendy’s own vanilla scent. No sweet hums cutting through her voice when she talks. No Seulgi to her Wendy.

She turns to face the wall, staring at the stark white paint no different from her last room’s, but. But.

 _Finally_ , she thinks, sinking into her bed. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she thinks it sounds a lot like _I miss y_ —

 

Maybe winter wasn’t such a good time to move dorms.

Joy raises a brow, and Wendy shrugs, hands warming up with hot packs in her jacket, but it’s still not enough to beat the frigid air.

 _It’s just_ — _too cold._ Wendy licks her lips. Too dry. Joy scoffs, then insists that there was no better time to do so than now, considering. Well. Everything.

Chances come and go and some people are right in taking them, but more often than not, people are _wrong_. The younger girl chews on a chip. _Do you think you were wrong?_

Wendy does not respond out loud. I don’t know. _I don’t know_. Maybe.

 

Seulgi _literally_ bumps into her on laundry day, both of their hands full of clothes that need washing. The older girl startles, then laughs. _Oh! Wan-ah_.

Wan-ah, hey. Seulgi says it as if— as if it’s like coming home after a long day. Or more likely Wendy is crazy for associating _Seulgi_ with _home_ when she _shouldn’t_ be. Not anymore, at least. Her name rolls off the elder’s tongue in a way that sounds foreign to Wendy’s ears, as if they hadn’t seen each other in—

Her smile probably comes off more like a grimace, but in her defense, Wendy’s been a little more stressed than usual lately. It has nothing to do with the colder air and bigger space and quieter atmosphere in her room with one bed. Probably.

The taller girl moves past her with a sheepish grin before Wendy can say something stupid like _your perfume smells different_ or _your sweater looks cute_ or _your roots are already growing, it’s like I haven’t seen you in_ —

Wendy clears her throat.

It’s not awkward. It shouldn’t be. It’s _not_. Is it?

She watches Seulgi walk away.

 

Wendy dreams.

She dreams of smooth hands with long fingers and childish laughter. She knows this smell, knows this _feeling_. Seulgi’s hair is back to black, and Wendy’s room is once again not her own, but instead _theirs_. Wan-ah. Wan-ah. It’s a whisper in the dark with the softest timbre, not a loud admission of _oh!_

Wan-ah. Meaning, _come closer._ Wan-ah. _We can push the beds together._ Wan-ah.

Sleep-drunk and hungry for warmth, she slides a hand along the sheets, expecting Seulgi to be waiting for her at the very end; where no matter which path she takes from her own person to her roommate’s, the other girl is always on the other side. Upon reaching the cliff of her mattress, she—

Ah, right. _I forgot_. Wendy pauses and opens her eyes, hand in the air. Past the edge of her bed, instead of another body in a bed pushed against hers leaving less than an inch between them, so, _so_ , close, all she sees and feels is empty space. Too late.

 _Seulgi-yah, maybe we shouldn’t_ —

 

You’ve got so much love to give, Seungwannie. You know that, right?

Wendy grits her teeth— whether from the gust of wind or what Irene’s just told her, she doesn’t bother trying to decipher. _I know that_ , she wants to snap. It’s all the older girl says about her, as if this was Wendy’s defining feature. As if it didn’t hurt to have your heart on your sleeve— so easily offered and so easily broken. Like it was clockwork for Wendy to pour out all of her love in a million ways and simply accept that it was denied. _I know that. I know. I don’t know what you expect me to say_.

Irene is hugging her before Wendy realizes she’s crying. She doesn’t know why. There’s no reason to. She’s fine, she’s blessed to be here, to be experiencing all these things, she’s—

_I wish I didn’t have so much to give. I wish I could keep it all to myself._

The older girl nods into her neck as she lightly caresses the nape of Wendy’s neck. Seungwannie. Seungwannie. _Seungwannie_.

Wendy thinks it sounds a little like healing, coming from Irene’s mouth.

 

What do you think, Seungwan-ah?

Wendy looks up from her phone. How they ended up here, she has no idea. Seulgi looks at her expectantly, lips set in a grin and eyes hiding behind her lashes as always. Her smile is big— happy. The shirt is loose and Wendy knows it would fit Seulgi perfectly, just like all her other clothes. Seulgi could wear a trash bag and Wendy would still be on her knees f—

 _Looks good_ , she says, clapping her hands and nodding, face set in a line as her hands show both thumbs up. Seulgi, if possible, looks even brighter, motioning an _okay? Okay?_ with a hand and mouthing it off too.

She tries not to grit her teeth, wondering how a free day has turned into a shopping day with Seulgi when the older girl could have picked Irene or Joy or—

Wendy watches Seulgi pay. _I wish_ —

 _I wish I wasn’t stuck on you anymore_.

 

Kim Yerim is a little too observant, Wendy decides. A little too up-in-your-face. Too open in a way that is powerful and solid; honest, but nothing like the way Wendy is.

Yeri is honest like the sun, bright and unyielding. Wendy is honest in ways that are too soft, too weak, like the light bouncing off the moon onto still waters; fading quickly with a small ripple. Yeri is unabashedly free like Wendy _yearns_ to be.

 _What’s wrong with admitting you miss her?_ Yeri is made up of youth and shamelessness.

I. Um. Wendy shoves a hot pack in the younger girl’s hands, ignoring the way Yeri pokes out her tongue in jest. What’s _wrong_? Well—

She doesn’t know. She hasn’t thought past that. Hasn’t thought past _I miss you_ and _I want you back_ and _can we please rewind and fix this because everything is wrong and backwards and I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this without you_.

It just feels wrong to say it out loud. Wendy licks her lips. Still too dry. Nothing’s changed.

Maybe I shouldn’t be feeling the things I feel. I should feel guilty for putting pressure on her when she hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s— I’m—

_The only person stopping you from getting past this is yourself, unnie._

Wendy breathes in. Breathes out. Looks at her pinky hooked on Yeri’s own. Maybe. Maybe—

 

I miss you.

Wendy cringes when Seulgi looks up. She was kind of hoping her voice was too soft to hear.

I miss you too, Wan-ah. The older girl is kind but unsure.

Wendy gulps, standing in the middle of the room with her heart on her sleeves like always. Please look away; please don’t— don’t—

 _Seulgi-yah. What I feel for you is love._ She breathes out. She needs to say it. Maybe—

Seulgi stands up, eyes wide. _Love? I_ — _Wan-ah, I_ — _Maybe if you’d said so sooner I would have_ —

Wendy shrugs and gives a shaky laugh. She only had the courage to say it now, but. It still hurts. _Maybe_ hurts a little more than _never_. Like a missed train by a few minutes rather than no train at all. Like one point off the mark rather than a landslide defeat. Like—

She wonders if this is a consequence of her loving too much. Thinking that if she pushed just a _little_ more, she would have made it and traversed the ocean between her and Seulgi that was found in the space between two beds. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe if it were yesterday, Seulgi would have answered differently. But it’s not, so her answer remains the same.

 _Wan-ah_. Seulgi steps closer and Wendy closes her eyes. Wan-ah. _You were the one that said we should_ —

 

She stares up at the ceiling, wishing it were a little less plain. Maybe she can ask Joy to help her put up those star stickers in kids’ rooms and fill the white space. Put some of that height to good use.

Yeri lays beside her, but instead of above her eyes are stuck on Wendy. _What are you looking at?_

The younger girl pokes her cheek and motions for her to be quiet, eyes twinkling as their favorite artist plays in the background.

Irene is with Joy and they’re both with Seulgi. Wendy is here, in her room that still smells like popcorn from the time Yeri dared her to catch some in her mouth during a move marathon and some kernels were surely missed somewhere.

The walls are still white, but it doesn’t feel as big or empty. Yeri hums along to the music, and Wendy feels less like a ghost than usual; less like a girl with a heart too big and too many chances to get hurt.

Wannie. Wendy tells herself it’s a mixture of Seungwan and unnie, but knowing Yeri, it’s most likely not. Wannie. Meaning, _you should be a little braver_. Wannie. _There’s no need to be so scared_. Wannie. _I’m here_.

Seungwannie, _you can get through this._ Wendy, _it’s okay to be wrong_.

She raises an arm to cover her face, but Yeri’s hand stops her. The younger girl motions her to scoot over so she can lie down properly, and Wendy does, surrounded by the scent of grapes coming from the girl beside her and the sounds of a melody she’s come to love and the thought that _maybe this ending isn’t so bad_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hah. Figures I'd try to cheat my way through writing WenSeul. I tried to be as vague as possible here on whether the story is set in idolverse where WenSeul are simply no longer roommates, or something else. Tell me what you think.
> 
> Unbeta'd and done in two hours. I know, who _am_ I?
> 
> That’s all for now,  
> ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ


End file.
